


tattooed on the inside

by akamine_chan



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Community: bandom_meme, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-22
Updated: 2012-02-22
Packaged: 2017-10-31 14:12:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/344912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akamine_chan/pseuds/akamine_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He can see the spill of tattoos down his left arm that makes his right arm look almost blank, but he's still caught by the broken heart, the ghost wish and now, H-A-LL-O.  He bites back a rough sound and arches his back a little, slowing down, lightening his touch, using just the fingertips to tease.  It's a fight to keep his eyes open, but he does, watching color and dark lines ripple and flow with each stroke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	tattooed on the inside

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sylvaine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sylvaine/gifts).



> Written for the DW community bandom_meme
> 
> For Sylvaine's prompt of _Frank getting off on the way his tattoos look - maybe first time jerking off after he gets his Halloween tats_
> 
> I spent all day thinking about Frank jerking off and staring at the knuckle tatts and then realizing he wouldn't be able to see them, so I had to improvise.
> 
> Title from _Tattoo_ by Siouxsie And The Banshees

Frank convinces a merch dude to find him some ice, because his fingers are a little swollen. It happens, it's no big deal, except it _is_. He wants them healed now. But it takes time; he knows it. He's just not very patient.

He's meticulous with the aftercare, though, antibiotic ointment and then a good quality lotion. He wrinkles his nose up at the weird not-quite-antiseptic smell, but so many artists recommended this brand, so it's what he uses. 

Sometimes he's surprised by the tatts. The H-A-LL-O and the W-E-E-N, yellow-red-blue, spilling bright and loud across his knuckles. The ink hasn't had time to settle into his skin like the rest of his tatts have; they're new and distracting and—fuck, he wants to jack off so bad, watch the colors as he wraps his fingers around his dick, but he can't. Not yet.

He waits, knowing it'll be so much better. He tries not to think about it too much, because it makes him irritable and snappish to the point where they guys threaten him with cold showers and ice baths. Frank flips them off and hunches deeper into his hoodie.

Luckily for him, in spite of his shit immune system, his tatts usually heal fast. The skin is shiny and new and—fuck. He bribes Ray with a mostly full bottle of Jäegermeister to go hang out with the guys from Underoath for a while. A _long_ while.

Ray laughs, ridiculously high pitched, and leaves Frank alone with his new ink and his thoughts.

Frank locks the door and for added security, wedges the chair under the knob. Dims the lights, grabs the lube and climbs into the bed, piling the pillows behind him so he's sitting upright and comfortable.

He's been mostly hard since they got off stage earlier in the evening, but now that he's alone, he finds that the frantic need has dropped back to a simmer. He can take his time, stretch it out, make it last. Make it feel good.

The letters are not in a good spot for this, too high on his fingers to be readily visible, so he uses an odd, two handed grip, sliding his hand up the shaft and over the head before moving it back down to the base, alternating between his left and the right hands. It's a new sensation and it sends sparks across his nerves. He watches the ink move as he flexes his fingers tight around his cock, making his breath hitch and his toes curl.

He can see the spill of tattoos down his left arm that makes his right arm look almost blank, but he's still caught by the broken heart, the ghost wish and now, H-A-LL-O. He bites back a rough sound and arches his back a little, slowing down, lightening his touch, using just his fingertips to tease. It's a fight to keep his eyes open, but he does, watching color and dark lines ripple and flow with each stroke.

Each tattoo has a special meaning to him, memories and thoughts and feelings inked into his skin, a forever reminder. A scar he's chosen and created and asked for, permanent. He lets go of his dick and skims a finger up his left arm, touching the heart and knife, the chainsaw, the Black Flag bars, the roses and stars and bats and dots. His fingers dip toward his elbow, searching. He can't easily see her, and he can't feel her, but he knows his Lady is there crowned by the rising sun; she's the heart of him. She's his center, his touchstone, his compass rose. She will never lead him astray.

Frank tips his head back and closes his eyes, sinking down into the pillows as he takes himself in hand again, still teasing but with intent. In his head he can see himself covered with tattoos, a finger tied with a yellow ribbon, a sea of blood, a cobra and an eagle, scissors and a wolf and spider webs, and so much more. He strokes himself a little faster, turned on by the idea of memorializing his life in color on his skin, etched deep, unforgettable. 

He pushes into his hand and gasps as his stomach tightens; he can feel himself riding the edge of his pleasure and he twists his hand on the upstroke, rubbing against the head of his cock. There's a flash of color, yellow-red-blue, and he shudders as he comes, wet heat in his hand and on his stomach. "Fuck," he hisses, his voice echoing in the empty room. He rubs his come over his swallows, angel and devil, and sighs, relaxing for the first time since he got the new tatts.

He drowses and wonders what he should get next, and where.

-fin-


End file.
